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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25887382">everything reaches for the sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasmiiids/pseuds/plasmiiids'>plasmiiids</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BioShock 1 &amp; 2 (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Drabble, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Pre-Canon, Self-Indulgent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:35:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25887382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasmiiids/pseuds/plasmiiids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Today Jack's parents leave for England.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>everything reaches for the sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>the water runs warm - but then again, everything does in kansas.</p>
<p>he gave up on trying to prevent the lavender-scented suds from soaking his sleeves long ago. they climb up his arms like vines, encouraged by his scrubbing, reaching for the light that leaks in from outside.</p>
<p>the task is repetitive, and in that way, comforting. <em>scrub, rinse, stack, repeat.</em> there isn't much to clean this time around, and he doubts he'll ever have to deal with a load this size again. he can still smell the maple syrup clinging to every dish. sundays had been pancake days.</p>
<p>
  <em>scrub, rinse, stack, repeat.</em>
</p>
<p>"jack."</p>
<p>the next plate is set in the rack with the softest clink as he turns to face her - the sunlight makes her look a little younger, a little softer around the edges. that little half-smile she always sports is a little more subtle this time. he doesn't have to guess why.</p>
<p>and he nods, feeling his lips twist into an imitation of it. "hey."</p>
<p>she has her suitcase, he notes. her hand is tight around the little trunk's handle, but she sets it down as she crosses over to him. "your dad's out loading the taxi," she says, and it doesn't sound like the statement of fact it should be.</p>
<p>he nods, again, and turns back to his chore. the feeling of her leaning slightly on his side is a welcome one. there isn't much to say that they haven't already discussed. a family emergency, some kind of dispute - the details are foggy in his memory, just out of reach. really, it was just his dad's presence that was required, but god help her if her husband went anywhere she couldn't follow. of course someone had to stay and look after the farm. it was only a matter of time before he took up this mantle, anyway. he knew what to do and how to do it; had been doing it since he could walk.</p>
<p>no, the sour feeling in his gut didn't come from unpreparedness. he was going to miss his father's loud laughter, the knowing looks his mother would give him every now and then.</p>
<p>the feeling of her hand on his pulls him back to reality - through the soap, he can see her bare palm guiding his own in circles around the plate. when had he stopped..?</p>
<p>"do you remember the when i taught you how to do this?" he flinches at a splash of water that oversteps the boundaries of the sink, but she doesn't seem to mind the stain it makes on her blouse, and after a moment, he shakes his head. something flashes behind her eyes at the motion. "you were six. you'd been begging to help with the dishes like you didn't already do enough around the house."</p>
<p>he has to laugh a little at that, something soft and low. he does remember insisting on doing every little task he could get his hands on - "something like that."</p>
<p>"<em>exactly</em> like that." the plate is gently lifted from beneath her fingers and left in the other sink to rinse. "and so we got you a step stool, and i showed you how to scrub in circles for maximum efficiency."</p>
<p>her smile becomes a smirk. "you made quite the mess. i suppose i should've clarified how fast or slow you were supposed to scrub."</p>
<p>silence quickly falls over them both as she withdraws her hand, shaking it gently to dry it while he reaches for the last dish. he can see a hint of the ink on her wrist, the companion to his own tattoos, and that bittersweet feeling swells inside him. a cloud passes over the sun, and the kitchen's yellow tint is quickly exchanged for a blue one. the light in his mother's eyes seems to drain with it.</p>
<p>"you sure you don't want to come?" they both know she doesn't mean to england. but they have already said their goodbyes, a thousand times over, in preparation for this moment. his grip on the dishrag tightens. she doesn't seem to notice.</p>
<p>but, she is his mother. and she can read his silences better than anyone else.</p>
<p>before he can protest she has reached back in and pulled his hands from the water, wrapping them in her own. he finds his eyes looking for something, anything to stare at instead of meeting her gaze. "<em>jack</em>," she says, and he is a young child again, about to be chided for trying to collect the chicken's eggs at two in the morning.</p>
<p>but he is not reprimanded. her gaze burns into his cheeks and he feels the tips of his ears grow hot, but he is not scolded. instead, she smiles. "you can say you're going to miss me. it's okay."</p>
<p>the redness spreads to his cheeks. "don't forget dad," he mumbles, shifting slightly in place. "i'm going to miss you and dad."</p>
<p>and she laughs, and all is right with the world again. a new beam of sunlight creeps its way up their sides, and it makes the forehead kiss he leans down to give her that much warmer. she gives his forearm two gentle pats, and then he can't resist the urge to pull her into a hug any longer. he dwarfs her, and she laughs harder.</p>
<p>"i love you," she says, and he knows she means it. "i love you, i love you." he can't find the right words to respond, so instead he holds her close. there they stay for a moment that lasts both a second and an eternity.</p>
<p>when he finally does let go, his hands, still wet, find a place on her shoulders. "and you promise to write?"</p>
<p>"promise."</p>
<p>she reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair back in her messy bun, and easily slips out from his grip. no formalities are exchanged, no <em>see you later</em>s or <em>have a good time</em>s. there is only the soft tap of her shoes on the hardwood floors as she walks over to and hoists her suitcase into her arms.</p>
<p>he watches her the whole time. she doesn't look back. and when the door closes behind her it is that much quieter. that much more empty.</p>
<p>he fills the silence with the sound of rushing water as he reaches in the sink to pull the plug.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>words: 1061<br/>i always pictured jack as more of a momma's boy, even before rapture and all the daddy issues it probably gave him :P</p></blockquote></div></div>
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